


Wake Me Up (So I Know I'm Not Alone)

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, Alpha Laura Hale, Angst, Angst with an Angsty Ending, Gen, Good Alpha Laura Hale, Grief/Mourning, Hale Family Feels, Healing, Post Hale Fire, Pre-Canon, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 12:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16118345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: Laura hates sleeping alone, and she knows that despite how he's been pulling away lately, that he needs it just as much. It's a pack thing. A them thing.[Or, the 5 Times Laura and Her Brother Slept Close Together + the 1 Time He Had to Sleep Alone]





	Wake Me Up (So I Know I'm Not Alone)

**Author's Note:**

> I did already write, a little while ago, basically the years after the fire, dealing with grief and what not, so this is a [companion piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653854), I suppose.
> 
> This came mostly because I just liked the idea of Laura and Derek sprawling atop each other asleep, like little puppies.

i. hospital room

 

                There’s not a whole lot to do at a hospital, Laura knows, so she’s not surprised when she notices Derek start to doze. Well, she’s a little surprised, mostly because she isn’t able to right now, but she soon realizes that –

 

                His alpha is beside him, watching for any danger. It’s been a long, terrible day, and it’s finally coming to a close. He can find enough solace in her protection to actually let his guard down enough to shut his eyes. There’s comfort in that if she looks hard enough and ignores _why_ it would need to be comforting.

 

                “Do I need to get you a ride to the motel?” She asks him, voice soft. It’s barely louder than the beeping coming from the machine Uncle Peter is hooked up to. It seems that thing only gets louder in silence. “There’s probably still a cop around here or something that would be willing to drive you.”

 

                She just kind of hopes it isn’t Deputy Stilinksi. He was a nice guy – too kind, really – but she feels too raw, too vulnerable. He’s seen them like this already, and, she doesn’t know how Derek feels about it, but it makes her uncomfortable. Maybe he’d be silent for Derek, drive him to the motel in peace, not ask anymore prying questions that would hurt too much to answer at the moment.

 

                It doesn’t matter, though, because Derek only shakes his head and rubs at his eyes. “Feels wrong,” he whispers, the words rough in his throat. She’s a little taken aback that he said anything at all, given that he couldn’t form even form words earlier, but… It does feel wrong, even the _idea_ of leaving Peter here. There’s something different, too. He’s not waking up.

 

                If he were human, it wouldn’t be too strange, maybe, but…

 

                She dispels that thought and tugs Derek’s chair closer so they’re flush against each other. He immediately presses up against her side, curling in close. She wraps one hand around his side and rests her head on top of his, gently rubbing her cheek into his hair. It’s something that Dad used to do for each of the kids, even the cousins, when they needed some touch.

 

                Tears well up, but she holds her breath until Derek’s heartbeat starts to slow into sleep before she lets herself cry.

 

* * *

 

 

 ii. hotel room

 

                Fresh out of the shower, Laura looks about the room. Her bundle of clothes is still on the edge of her bed, waiting for her to put it away (well, onto one of the spare chairs, they’re only staying for a single night). On the other bed, Derek is on his side, staring out the window. She can tell he’s not asleep, that he has a lot on his mind. That’s all it takes for her to take one step back and then putting on a burst of speed as she jumps onto the bed, landing on top of him.

 

                The air is pushed out of him in a harsh _oof!_ , and a heady burst of confusion tinged with irritation comes from him. She ignores it as she uses her knees and elbows to bodily push him over so she can snuggle up behind him. He starts to wiggle just as she’s thrown an arm around his side and yanked her closer so he cannot escape.

 

                “Laura!” His voice is croaky, squished, and she wiggles against him a little more, pushing him further into the shitty mattress. “What are you – your bed is _right there_!”

 

                “So?” She asks. She knows what he’s getting at, but she doesn’t have a real answer to his question. It was an impulse decision, made on the spot and barely registering before she did it. But it looks like it paid off, since he’s a little too distracted trying to make sure he can breathe around her than to think.

 

                Besides. They’re family, and they’re pack. They’re beyond used to cuddling and snuggling, and sleeping in the same beds together. In fact, even when they did go on vacation as a family, everyone would pile together (usually having to form multiple piles), finding comfort in each other in a strange environment. This, while a different scenario, still needs this aspect to it.

 

                Derek grumbles some more, but she can smell the relief, can feel the way he lets himself sink into her. She knows he needed this. She did too.

 

                She makes a note to quit buying hotel rooms with two beds. If they end up having to sleep separately, one of them could take the cot, or one of the chairs.

 

* * *

 

 

iii. first night

 

                He doesn’t have to say anything. He makes this little face, nose twitching, scrunching, every time he inhales. She knows, agrees. It doesn’t smell right here.

 

                He doesn’t have to say anything for her to bring a hand up to the back of his neck, guiding him to her room. She knows he wouldn’t have said anything anyway. She can picture it, him staying up in bed, unable to sleep, not letting himself ask for her, her comfort. She doesn’t know why he’s holding himself back so much, but it hurts sometimes. But it never hurts enough for her to hold back too.

 

                She pushes him into bed, slipping in too and pulling up the covers. He doesn’t move at first, but when she tugs him into her, his nose moves straight for her neck, inhaling deep and fast. She smooths a hand down his back, letting out a rumble that feels strangely natural, something that has to be from what she inherited. She doesn’t want him to hyperventilate.

 

                It doesn’t take long for him to start shaking, for her neck to start to get wet, sticky from his tears. She doesn’t mind. Not when he can smell hers just the same.

 

* * *

 

 

 iv. on the roof

 

                “This is where you’re always going?”

 

                He whips around, staring at her, agape. Damn, she knew she was getting better with this whole tracking thing, but she would have thought he would have noticed her, at least.

 

                He quickly schools his expression and turns back to staring out over the city. It smells terrible up here, like other people come up here to smoke or drink, like the city of smog and cars and trash. She settles next to him, careful to never let her bare skin touch the disgusting roof. “Why here? It smells –”

 

                “Like shit?” He interrupts, and she snorts, but nods. It was what she was just thinking, anyway. He shrugs, still looking out over the city and everywhere that isn’t at her, it seems. “Better than the apartment, anyway.”

 

                She knows, without a doubt, and as soon as he says it, that he doesn’t mean how clean the apartment is. Sure, it could be better, but they’re werewolves, with heightened senses. If it smells bad, they can’t live with it long enough to learn to ignore it. They clean the smelly stuff. She knows what the apartment smells like, and it isn’t just… _bad_.

 

                It smells like _misery_.

 

                She can understand him needing a break from that, from everything. As long as he isn’t jumping off of this thing, she doesn’t have anything against these trips. In fact, she could use a bit of a break herself.

 

                She leans back, ignoring the grossness, telling herself she’ll take a shower later. Derek stays sitting up, but he glances over his shoulder at her he was expecting that she would have just left him there. Crossing her arms under her head, she looks up at the starless sky. It isn’t like Beacon Hills at all.

 

                She wants to say it’s just as beautiful, just in a different way, but she just can’t find the poetic bull for it. It’s just kind of… there. A big, black emptiness, only proving that the sun is out of the picture for the moment. If any poetry were to come from this, it would be that it feels like her moods a lot of these days, the emptiness inside of her, something – she knows what it is, ignores what it is – yearning for her to fill up those bonds again.

 

                But most of all, it’s nothing spectacular. It reminds her of what it looks like behind her closed eyes, her dreams. Dark, empty, nothingness.

 

                She’ll take that over the nightmares, any day.

 

                “I’m gonna pass out,” she tells him, and he twitches, like he wasn’t expecting her to talk again, but doesn’t react further. “If I fall off because you didn’t catch me, I’m having the spark go to Peter.”

 

                She shuts her eyes, wondering if she can actually pass out here – she can, she sleeps so much more now – and within seconds, there is shuffling beside her. As soon as he’s lying down, carefully not touching her, she drags him in by the arm. At least now, if she falls off, she can take him with her.

 

* * *

 

 

v. in the woods

 

                When Derek starts to lag in their running, Laura looks up at the moon. It’s still high in the sky and for her, it’s song still sings for her blood to hum along to, but she has no desire to go where Derek cannot follow. So, she slows.

 

                They find themselves in a dense thicket of trees, and she scents the area. There haven’t been people around here, at least not in a long while, and not often enough for their smell to soak into the trees past the rain and other animals. It’s a safe place for them to settle in for the night. She knows that animals will avoid them, too, because they look like people, and if they get close enough, they smell like something else.

 

                Pulling off her shirt to use as a pillow, she falls to her knees and starts patting around for a good place to lay down. Derek does the same and, listening wholly to his instincts tonight, darts forward to butt his head against her bare stomach. She wavers, only letting herself fall back with a snort when she can grab onto his shoulder and pull her down with her. He goes down easy, falling on top of her and sprawling out. His hands come up and with them, he rubs into her, scenting her all over.

 

                Since he’s going to be apparently sleeping atop her, she steals his shirt and tucks it into her own and slides it under head for extra fluff. He doesn’t complain, only scrubbing his cheek against her shoulder. It tickles with the stubble he’s starting to finally get.

 

                “Night, Alpha,” he mumbles, slurring around his teeth, and is _out_. He doesn’t catch her freeze, or the way her breath stilts at the title.

 

                She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to that.

 

* * *

 

 

\+ i. without her

 

                He would have thought that after a long, terrible day like this one, he would have been able to fall asleep as soon as he laid down. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d had to sleep in the car. But instead, he feels both bone-deep exhaustion and an energy that rests just under his eyelids, forcing him to keep them open. This energy feels like a live wire burning just beneath his skin, but it isn’t any extra power.

 

                It’s not his sister’s Alpha spark. That tells him enough already about her killer – that they’re a wolf, not a hunter, even if they tried to make it appear so.

 

                Fuck. He squeezes his eyes shut and throws an arm over them. _Her killer_. She’s _dead_.

 

                He’s the last one. The only one left. And all because – _her_.

 

                He bites his tongue and focuses on that pain rather than the aching, tearing in his chest, his gut. It hurts just about everywhere, and experience tells him that it won’t be going away any time soon. And maybe he’s a glutton for punishment, but he thinks that if he can’t have _them_ , he’d rather have this. A reminder, in the worst kind of way. A reminder, to not be so fucking stupid. A reminder, for constant vigilance.

 

                He flips onto his side, despite knowing that it won’t really be any more comfortable than laying on his back, and spots something in the floorboard. It’s dark fabric, and when he reaches down to pick it up, Laura’s scent wafts from it, a second of comfort. (Another reminder, she’s dead, they’re all dead.)

 

                It’s an old hoodie, one they got from a roadside attraction’s giftshop right after the fire as they traveled to New York. It’s cheaply made and somewhat falling apart, so Laura had thrown it in the backseat to use if they got cold (they never got cold), unused in a long while. It still smells like her, however, her scent sinking deep into it from the years of her wearing it so often that, after all the washes, the logo on the front is coming off.

 

                He takes in a deep, shaky inhale, uncertain of whether he wants to rub his face into it, transferring some of that scent onto himself and risk it eventually losing her smell, or not. He decides to only tuck it under his head with careful, twitchy fingers, and pretend that he’s laying his head in her lap again. He feels just the smallest bit closer to actually being able to fall asleep now.

 

                If she has to be gone, then he’ll have to make do with this alone.


End file.
